


I'd Appreciate Your Input

by M0use



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Community: bandom_meme, Fade to Black, Fluff, M/M, Sexual Fantasy, Soul Bond, brief body horror imagery, light d/s implied, mindreading smut because i can
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-04
Updated: 2015-06-04
Packaged: 2018-04-02 21:18:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4074199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/M0use/pseuds/M0use
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mikey could employ creative thinking when he wants something.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'd Appreciate Your Input

**Author's Note:**

  * For [akamine_chan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/akamine_chan/gifts).



> written as a (first ever!) fill on bandom_meme. the prompt was: Gerard/Mikey, "Get out of my head."  
> the title is from [exactly what you think](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yzHzc1zMPlA) and i apologize for nothing. happy June.  
> //

Sometimes Mikey just got like this. A grown man had, you know, _needs_ , but he could also take care of his goddamn self or at the very least put it out of his mind for a while. Except for times like now. He was pretty sure it's hypomania related, and while it's not a bad feeling by itself that didn't mean it's a good one to be acting on. Then again, his new therapist said that sometimes symptoms are just symptoms. There's no need or use to put a moral judgement on them. When he was younger this kind of thing would lead to him rolling off of anonymous girls in the dark and spending mornings in STI clinics, but he's not in any danger now. Except maybe the danger of scratching his skin apart at the seams with a burst of fire and blood because he's so goddamn horny he could literally explode.  
Mikey already tried jerking off half an hour ago. It didn't help as much as it should've.

  
  
There really was only one thing for it. He closed his eyes and let his mind drift out, like looking around a room, and smiled a little as it bumped lazily against his brother's.  
The two of them had been attached ever since Mikey had learned how to talk, more or less. It was how that he'd started learning to read so quickly; Gerard already knew how. It was part of the reason both of them were so shitty at math. It was words sometimes, but mostly sound and image and colour. Their bond had been useful for a lot of things when they were little: coordinated hunts for comic books, relating what their parents were saying when one of them got sent to his room until judgement was called. And then they grew up, and it was still damn useful to be able to sweep two sides of a bookstore at once, but some of the other uses changed.  
Gerard's thoughts curled around him, affectionate and warm, before unwinding and pulling back. He was in the music room down the hall, what was supposed to be their apartment's second bedroom, in the middle of making a song. Guitar strumming had been floating through the air all afternoon. The melody he was trying to figure out had been chasing itself through his thoughts for days now, half-realized. It'd be a good one once he'd gotten it down.  
Mikey could sympathize with that, really he could, but there were other concerns to be had. He pushed more intently, filling his thoughts with the diffused _want_ all over his skin and how sore and lonely his mouth had gotten without Gerard's on it. Just the feeling was enough to make Gerard join him, sometimes.  
Not this time. Gerard's thoughts went pale pink with surprise before pulling back more firmly than before. A tendril of reproach wavered sternly, surrounded and interspersed by music notes.  
“Oh, you can work later,” Mikey muttered to himself. Yeah he was being a bit selfish, but it was the weekend, and if G didn't remember the melody later then Mikey would just remember it enough for both of them. Mikey needed him right now.  
  
Huffing a little, he squirmed down from where he was sitting on their bed with his back against the headboard. When he was fully horizontal he made himself relax, curling his hand up his shirt with his palm pressed to his skin. As his hand wandered he pictured things, enticing as he could make them. The bed itself, warm and dappled with sunlight easing in through the crack in the blackout curtains. His body from the viewpoint that he currently had, looking down at his chest with his hand moving under his shirt and his sweatpants with the chub slowly becoming more obvious.  
“Get out of my head Mikey Way,” Gerard called out into the hallway.  
Mikey snorted. He was just broadcasting. Both of them knew very well that they could shut each other out if they needed to, from either end. If Gerard chose not to listen in-- well, that would suck right at this moment, actually. But if he chose _to_ listen in, that wasn't Mikey's fault. Mikey pulled his hand out from his shirt and ran it just inside the waistband of his pants, right along his navel which Gerard had a weird but not unpleasant obsession with kissing, and his hips which were more obviously attractive.  
The air around him took on a faint smell, like the ghost of hazelnuts. Gerard was definitely listening and at least a little bit interested.  
Mikey half-lidded his eyes, focusing on making a clear picture his head. Imagery had never been his strongest suit but this was an emergency. He pictured the mattress again, then them standing in front of it wrapped up in each other; the warmth and weight of his arms, and G's arms, and the little _snick_  the buttons on Mikey's shirt made when Gerard undid them one by one. (He was wearing an old t-shirt right now and was pretty sure G knew that, but hey, that was what fantasies were for. Gerard had a definite thing about undressing Mikey for him, the more slowly and elaborately the better.) The last button fell open and Mikey tilted his head against the real pillows, letting the scene blur past the awkward getting into bed phase until dream-him was bent over forward with his forehead on the mattress, gasping as Gerard pushed flush behind him and pressed open-mouthed kisses to Mikey's naked shoulder and neck.  
Down the hall, there was the distinct sound of a cut-off groan.  
The mattress started dipping and moving in his imagination, both their knees sliding a little on the sheets. It was a triple mirroring of sensations: him imagining the feeling of G's mouth and rhythms, and picturing himself third-person for G based on memories that Gerard had shown him, and feeling G's heart speed up in his chest right beside Mikey's own even though he was (maddeningly) still way the fuck down the hall. Mikey's breath caught twice over. Once they were actually in the same room-- once they were in bed, especially-- it got so much more intense than this. Drugs dulled it, booze dulled it; the first time they'd slept together after Gerard had gotten clean had been almost terrifying, but that was a long time ago. Now Mikey let his eyes slip properly shut, seeing Gerard's fingers clenched against the stratocaster, and Gerard's fingers clenched against his hips as he pulled them backwards.  
The vision changed without Mikey shifting it: he was on his back in moonlight, seeing himself from above but also looking up, the mirroring images at once disorienting and familiar. G was above him in the vision, his mouth swollen dark with a smear of come on the corner, eyes intent. He leaned forward and Mikey realized his dream-legs were bent up at about the same time that his dream-spine arched forward and the ghost of imagined overstimulation shivered along his spine.  
On the bed, Mikey grinned. He had him now.  
He was rarely actually desperate enough to beg when Gerard wanted him to, but he'd do it anyway, because G wanted him to, and the look that got over Gerard's face was enough to make any embarrassment that Mikey felt for it insignificant. That knowledge served him well in moments like this. Feeling how dry Gerard's mouth had gotten like he was breathing two kinds of air, Mikey made the final little push, concentrating to get the tone just right.  
_Please_ , imagination-him panted into imagination-Gerard's ear with just a hint of whine. Mikey let it stop being dialogue and instead infuse the shared thought, beating like his heart: _please, please, please--_  
  
“Motherfucking--” A guitar string twanged loudly and offkey, followed by a metallic thump. The next sounds were a door slamming shut and Gerard's soft footfalls marching down the hallway. Seconds later he stood in the doorway, face flushed, glaring down at Mikey who was snickering victoriously on the bed. The panting and the moonlight vaporized into midair as Mikey stopped concentrating so vividly. The urgency under his skin and the hazelnut smell remained, the second one strong enough he could've been carrying some in his teeth.  
He stopped laughing when G stalked over to him and mashed their mouths together without any kind of grace. “Do you have to always,” G mumbled when he pulled back to breathe.  
“Not always,” Mikey said, reaching up and reeling Gerard in for another kiss, hungrily. This one was slightly less messy. Gerard's hand went up to his hair and held on. “Only sometimes.”  
“You could've-- mm-- you could've just fucking gotten up and asked me--”  
“You always come to me anyway,” Mikey replied, more nakedly honest than he'd intended. Feeling like he might as well finish the job he added, “I love you,” which was the undercurrent to that statement anyhow. It wasn't as all-encompassing as the goddamn _need right now right_ _**now**   _was currently but he still did mean it, and he would, always, just come _on_ \--  
Gerard huffed, having heard all of that. “I love you too," he mumbled. “Now if you're so impatient _move_ ,” and he matched Mikey's urgency as he rolled both of them fully onto the bed.

   
_  
_ -x-o-


End file.
